Last night as we were getting ready
for bed, it was a relief to know that this morning we wouldn’
t
have to get up until we felt like it, and that we could look forward to a more
or less unscheduled day. So we got up about 7:30, put our swimsuits and towels
back in our daypacks, and got on a bus to Circular Quay.
 |
| Circular Quay |
Circular Quay (pronounced by the
locals as “
key”
) is Sydney’
s
main transportation hub for passenger traffic on both land and water. The
light-rail line passes through Circular Quay; many bus routes begin and end
here; this is also where you come to catch a ferry to get across the harbor.
 |
| P&O Arcadia |
And
since Sydney is an international port of entry, there is always a gigantic
cruise ship moored at Circular Quay. (Currently, the P&O Arcadia is here, about midway through its
92-day circumnavigation of the world.)
 |
| Ferry to Manly Beach |
Today we had no desire to
circumnavigate the world; we just wanted to go to Manly, a beach town located
on a jagged peninsula between the bay that constitutes Sydney Harbor and the
Tasman Sea. The next ferry to Manly Wharf was due to depart only ten minutes
after we got off the bus at Circular Quay, so we bought a bottle of orange
juice and a couple of muffins from a nearby vendor and went aboard.
It was another beautiful morning, so
we got another beautiful view of the harbor during our 35-minute ride. There
weren’t many other passengers on the ferry, but
some of them were as picturesque as the scenery we were passing.
 |
| Dandy with yellow socks |
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| She's also wearing leopard-print capris |
It was easy to get a photo of the
colorful character sitting in front of us, but Nancy had to try repeatedly to
get a good surreptitious shot of the dapper fellow at our left so that you, dear readers,
could also smile at his yellow socks and pink pocket square. We couldn’
t
decide whether he was off to spend the day with his ladyfriend (who would meet
him wearing a wide-brimmed red hat), or with his boyfriend (who would meet him
wearing a wide-brimmed purple hat).
The North Head cliffs greeted us as
we approached Manly Wharf, which is on the harbor side of the peninsula. Manly
Beach is on the ocean side, only a couple of kilometers across town.
 |
| North Head cliffs |
Our immediate destination, however,
was not the beach, but the western end of the Manly Scenic Walkway. We wanted to end our ten-kilometer walk at
Manly Beach, so we took a bus from the wharf to the Spit Bridge trailhead at
Fisher Bay.
Before we left the hotel this
morning, Nancy had asked Michael whether she should wear her hiking boots, or
if regular walking shoes would be sufficient. “Wear your regular walking shoes,”
he said. “I think this trail is supposed to be fairly
level.”
 |
| Fisher Bay |
Nancy now knows that she should have
read about the Manly Scenic Walkway herself rather than trusting Michael’
s
memory of what he had read about it a couple of months ago. We had come
prepared for a stroll along a paved path, but soon found ourselves descending a
steep, rocky track through the trees above Fisher Bay. As the trail continued
to wind unevenly up and down the ridge overlooking the water, both of us wished
we had not only worn our sturdier boots, but had brought our hiking poles as
well. As the morning wore on, we also wished we had eaten more than a muffin
for breakfast.
 |
| Water lizard |
While not as leisurely as we had
anticipated, the walk definitely was scenic, and the terrain surprisingly
varied. We had begun in semi-tropical rainforest—
or what New Zealanders call “
the
bush”—
but then passed through drier areas of
coastal heath with scrubby shrubs and wildflowers. In some places, the track
took us across rocky tide pools, sandy beaches, and even surburban streets. Everywhere, we encountered
water lizards: big ones, small ones, medium ones, sometimes motionless on a
log, sometimes darting through the underbrush. We also saw and heard many birds.
The Manly Scenic Walkway also
includes some interesting historical sites. At Grotto Point, we examined some ancient
aboriginal rock carvings.
 |
| Approaching North Harbor |
It was well past noon and steaming
hot when we reached North Harbor, where the Scenic Walkway has a tangent leading
back to civilization. We were hungry and hadn’
t brought anything besides trail mix,
so we left the track and walked up the hill into a section of town called
Balgowlah.
 |
| Lunch in Balgowlah |
Eventually we found Balgowlah Gourmet Chicken and Salad, a deli with
an array of fill-your-tub options that featured Portuguese chicken even though
the proprietors were Chinese. We skipped the rotisserie chicken and hot Asian dishes
in favor of chilled salads.
To return to the Scenic Walkway, we passed
through some residential neighborhoods that we found as interesting as the
natural scenery. Many of the houses were large, luxurious homes such as those
we’
ve seen in the hills along Southern California’
s
Pacific Coast Highway; others were more typical of the older, grittier Atlantic
beach towns that draw working-class families on summer vacation.
 |
| Michael swimming at Fairlight Beach |
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| Nancy preparing to wade into Fairlight Beach |
 |
| Overlooking Crater Cove |
Within thirty minutes we were at
Fairlight Beach in Manly Cove. Well protected from ocean waves, this picturesque
little beach offers a nice swimming area, so we decided to join a few other
bathers—
mostly elderly couples and parents with young
children—
in the very clear water. Again,
unfortunately, there was no place to change clothes, so once more Michael had
to create some privacy with only a towel around his waist—
and
once more, Nancy was content with rolling up her capris and wading. (It should
be stated that Nancy’
s decisions to decline swimming this week have
much less to do with fear of indecent exposure than with her fear of having to
walk around the rest of the day totally encrusted with salt and sand.) The
water was very refreshing (even when enjoyed only up to the knees), especially
since by this time the temperature had risen into the nineties (Fahrenheit).
 |
| Heath Blossoms |
 |
| The plumeria trees are in full, fragrant bloom |
When we reached Manly Wharf about 3
p.m., we turned off the Scenic Walkway and headed up the Corso—
a
pedestrian mall lined with shops and restaurants—
to Manly Beach. Like Bondi, Manly
Beach offers good waves for surfing and parasailing, and a wide swath of sand
for sunbathing. Since we’
d already been in the water at Fairlight
Beach, we just watched the surfers for a while, and then walked back up the
Corso to get some ice cream.
 |
| The Corso near Manly Beach |
 |
| Nancy at Manly Beach |
Worn out after our all-day hike, we
decided to take the next ferry back to Circular Quay. By the time we returned
to our hotel to shower and change clothes, a thick layer of clouds had rolled
in, so we took an umbrella along when we left to go to dinner.
Good thing; raindrops started to fall
as we walked to the bus stop. In addition to the umbrella, Michael had brought
a list of restaurant possibilities (again gleaned from Trip Advisor). Our plan
was to take the bus to the first one, stay if it looked good, or move on to the
next one if it didn’
t. This actually was Plan C; Plan A was to
eat at the Sydney Cove Oyster Bar, an outdoor restaurant located right on the
water at Circular Quay. We had made a reservation there when we got off the
ferry, but in the meantime we had decided to wait and go there tomorrow, since
we have opera tickets for tomorrow night and the Oyster Bar is virtually next
door to the Opera House. Besides, it had started to rain, so the Oyster Bar’
s
outdoor venue didn’
t seem as appealing as it had earlier. Plan B
was to eat at Fish at the Rocks, located just beyond the base of the Harbor
Bridge, but when we called to make a reservation, it was already fully booked.
So, on to Plan C. We got off the bus
at a big hotel where the in-house restaurant had gotten good reviews, but once
we found the right elevator to take us there, we learned that we would have to
wait almost two hours for a table. The next restaurant on Michael’
s
list apparently had moved to a different location. We walked right past the
third one because the name on the door didn’
t match the name listed by Trip
Advisor, but when we turned back to take a second look, we decided that the Bridge Room must be the right place after all.
By this time it was not just raining;
it was pouring. After walking several blocks under an umbrella that really isn’t
big enough for two people, we were glad to finally be able to duck inside, even
though the Bridge Room was so crowded with tables that we couldn’t
avoid dripping on diners who were already seated. The hostess showed us to the
only available table and handed us menus. We had a few minutes to review the
exotic, expensive offerings before the server arrived to tell us about tonight’s
special entrée. Neither of us was in the mood to start our
meal with sea urchin roe garnished with cloud ear fungus and bull’s
blood; nor were we in the mood to pay more for dinner than we would for a week’s
worth of groceries, so we got up and left. (Nancy asked Michael: “Don’t
you check the number of dollar signs on those Trip Advisor listings before you
put the restaurant on your own list?”)
The rain had subsided while we were
in the Bridge Room, so since we had never cancelled our reservation at the
Sydney Cove Oyster Bar, that’s where we ended up. The hostess led us to dry
seats at a table under a wide umbrella, right next to the low concrete wall of
the quay. Nancy sat facing the Harbor Bridge; Michael faced the city skyline. The
still-cloudy sky was beginning to turn a lovely shade of pinkish orange.
As we waited for our food to arrive,
we overheard the conversation going on among the three English couples at an
adjacent table. They were somewhat older than we, and likely had come off the Arcadia, the cruise ship looming on the
opposite side of the quay.
“Are those birds up there on top
of the bridge, or people?” asked one of the women.
“I believe they’re people,” one of her companions replied.
“Oh yes,” said another woman
enthusiastically. “I’ve heard that you can climb the
bridge. I’d like to do it—I think it would be very
exciting!”
“Well, I have no interest in doing
such a thing,” said the first woman. “It sounds dangerous.”
 |
| Dinner entrees at Sydney Cove Oyster Bar |
“
I expect it would be rather windy
up there,”
observed one of the men.
“Well, I’d still like to try it,” said the second woman—but no one offered to go with
her and the sunject was dropped.
It had gotten dark by the time we
started our main course: seared sea scallops and pork belly with Madeira sauce,
shemiji mushrooms, and a puree of pears and salted caramel for Michael; grilled
barramundi with smoked capsicum relish and balsamic-glazed asparagus and
artichoke hearts for Nancy. (Barramundi is an Australian variety of cod; capsicum is the British term for a bell
pepper.) But then Nancy noticed a sudden shimmer light up the sky behind
Michael’s head. “Was that lightning?”
she asked.
It was. We never heard any thunder,
but as we made our way through the main and then our salad (wild rocket, diced pear,
and shredded parmesan, dressed with a white balsamic vinaigrette), we watched
the shimmers grow brighter and move closer—and watched the bridge climbers
high-tail it back toward the base.
 |
| Desserts at Sydney Cove Oyster Bar |
The storm reached us about the time our
dessert was served. Donning clear plastic rain ponchos and covering the dishes
on their serving trays with extra plates, the wait staff at the Sydney Cove
Oyster Bar carried on as if nothing was amiss. We remained dry under our big
umbrella, so Michael could enjoy his chocolate macadamia nut tart with vanilla
gelato, strawberries, and fresh fruit relish, and Nancy her creme caramel and brownie
with salted caramel sauce.
As we got up to leave and passed the
English woman who had wanted to climb the bridge, Michael leaned over and said,
“By all means, do the bridge climb! It’s
very safe; we did it yesterday and loved it!”
We got a little wet dashing between
buildings and bus stops on the way back to the hotel, but by then it didn’t
matter.
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